


Without Her

by EllieRose101



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode: s05e22 The Gift, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8351101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieRose101/pseuds/EllieRose101
Summary: After Buffy's sacrifice at the end of season five, Spike isn't sure he can go on existing in a world without the Slayer. Two things keep him going, though: his promise to protect Dawn, and these dreams. Are they dreams? He's not sure, but they seem real enough.





	1. Day One

Spike watched all of them gather around her, discussing what to do. They hadn’t included him or Dawn in the huddle, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be part of any discussion that involved dealing with the dead body of his beloved. Plus, he was in no state to speak.

When he felt he couldn’t cry anymore he looked around again, still unable to take it all in. Then, feeling a soft hand on his shoulder, he turned to find Dawn crouching by his side; her eyes as dead as his, her mouth just as silent. They held each other and, together, they found more tears. A while after that, Willow came and ushered Dawn away. Arms interlinked, they walked with Tara away from the base of the tower.

Xander followed, carrying Anya, and Giles trailed after them, Buffy in his arms, leaving Spike completely alone aside from Ben’s corpse off to the side.

Glory’s minions and the mental patients were all long gone.

 

The sun was getting up, and there wasn’t much shadow left where Spike had been sitting. He contemplated staying put – letting the beams of light wash over him and take him away – but the promise he made to her kept replaying in his head; strengthening his resolve.

He knew he had to stay alive for Dawn. He had to keep the slayer’s sister safe. So he peeled himself up and made for the nearest sewer entrance, letting out a piercing scream as he jumped down into it.

Spike walked for hours, pacing back and forth within the tunnels until he couldn’t stand being on his feet any longer.

Upon getting back to his crypt, he opened a bottle of bourbon and drank its contents down in one go before smashing it against the wall. It didn’t take long for the cocktail of grief, exhaustion, and intoxication to take full effect. Soon he was curled in a tight ball in the corner – head in hands – out for the count.

He dreamt of Woodstock and all the surreal memories he had of it, but even while dreaming, part of him knew something wasn’t right; that he shouldn’t be strolling down memory lane when his life – his reason for living, so to speak – had been ripped from him.

Just as he was about to punch his dream-self in the head to end the flashback, he saw a glimmer out of the corner of his eye. Something was glowing in the darkness.

Spike turned his head towards the source of the light – dancing among the lighters being held up by hippies. Immediately, he knew it was her. It didn’t matter that she’d lost her form and was essentially a floating orb of energy, he recognized her essence and was drawn towards it.

He felt his legs shake beneath him as he made his way to disembodied Buffy. The distance seemed to take a lifetime to cross but eventually he found himself before her, kneeling. He closed his eyes and felt her warmth pass through him.

“No!” he begged, fresh tears in his eyes. “Don’t leave me. Stay. _Please_.”

“William,” she whispered, heartbreakingly gently.

“Yes! Buffy! I’m here. You’re with me. Don’t go.”

Despite his pleading, he felt the warmth ebb away from him, but again she whispered his name as she went.

From there, he fell into senseless trance that lasted hours, and when he finally woke up from that – late in the night – he found Dawn sitting atop the tomb in the centre of his crypt.

“Niblet,” he greeted her, his voice rough but welcoming.

“Spike,” she replied, not looking at him. “I couldn’t sleep. Everyone’s talking about funeral plans. I had to get away. Please don’t throw me out.”

“It’s okay,” he sighed, “I won’t.”

His dream of Buffy left him with a strange feeling of peace that remained with him while awake. It helped him to function. He offered Dawn a drink before remembering the only thing he had left in stock was 0+. So, instead, they walked the cemetery, back in the general direction of her house but in no particular rush.

“As much as I like you around,” he said, “The others would sooner put a stake in my chest than to see me take care of you. Now that Buffy’s not here, I guess there’s no one to stop them.”

Dawn let out a cry, unable to hold it in any longer.

“People need to stop dying!” she screamed, launching herself at his chest. “They need to stop! Don’t you dare die!”

Holding the girl in a tight embrace, Spike promised that he’d be around, that he’d always be there for her, even though he didn’t know if it were true.

He swore to himself that as long as Buffy’s friends would let him, he would watch over her sister; secretly hoping that doing so meant she’d continue to watch over him; to visit him in his dreams.


	2. A Sleepless Night

“You coming inside?” Dawn asked, but Spike shook his head. He was feeling overwhelmed enough by the Slayer’s scent just from where he stood on the sidewalk.

“Gonna stay here and smoke a while.”

Just then, the front door opened and he got a lungful of death that almost knocked him sideways.

 _Oh god_ , he thought, _She’s in there. They brought her back here, probably laid her out on the couch her mother died on. Is it any bloody wonder Niblet ran away?!_

“Spike,” said Xander, sounding irritated. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be done with your stalker routine by now.”

“Hey! Don’t be a jerk!” said Dawn, jumping to his defense.

Squaring up to the carpenter, Spike spat out the unlit cigarette from his lips. “I was bringing Dawn here home. Bet you hadn’t even noticed she was gone.”

“No one noticed,” Anya admitted. “Xander, I think you should apologize.”

“Whatever, he’ll get over it.”

“Xander!” both Dawn and Anya reprimanded him in unison.

Backing down a little, Spike reminded himself he needed to be good if he was to have any chance of convincing these people to let him hang around.

“Look,” he said, “I don’t wanna fight, especially not in front of Niblet. Think we can agree she’s been through enough.” Turning to her he added, “I’ll stop by and see you tomorrow after sundown. No more late night strolls, okay?”

Dawn nodded before turning to go inside, whispering “Be nice!” as she passed Xander.

He waited for a moment or two after she shut the door before objecting. “You’ll see her tomorrow? What’s that about?”

“She needs someone.”

“Not you.”

“Right, so you’re gonna protect her when you don’t even know where she is and there are demons roaming the streets? God knows why, but she listens to me and I can fight off any beasties out for Scooby blood.”

“He has a point,” said Anya. “Buffy did trust him enough to help out.”

“Can you stop taking the side of captain peroxide for a minute? What is wrong with the women of my social group? Does no one remember this is a dead serial killer who wants to hang out with a vulnerable teenage girl we’re talking about?”

“A dead serial killer who fought by your side no less than twenty-four hours ago,” Anya pointed out.

“Why don’t you just get a room if you love him so much?”

“Because you said that we weren’t gonna do the whole open relationship thing and- Why do your eyes look like they’re gonna pop out of your head?”

Unable to take any more tension, Spike walked away, letting the bickering fade away into the distance. One thing that wouldn’t fade, though, was the thought of her in the house. He wanted so much to sit with her, even if it wasn’t really her anymore.

It was then Spike realized that, unless she took that form in a vision, he would never get to see her face again. Again he had the urge to end it all, but again he pushed the urge down and away from him.

Returning to his crypt, he sought sleep but could not grasp it. The peace he’d received in his earlier dream was degrading and he felt himself spiral out of control.

After many hours of standing and sitting and turning the TV on only to put his foot through it, he threw stuff around until he found a pen and something to write on - a beer mat. He then spent the next two hours teasing out four words of a poem only to burn the damn thing.

“Buffy!” he cried, “I can’t do this. I’m bloody stupid but I can’t deal with you being gone unless you come and help me!” Confessing it out loud gave him just enough relief from his pent up frustration to let her words come back to his mind.

“I love you all,” she had said, and at the time he didn’t know if the ‘all’ included him but now he had to believe it. Even if it wasn’t the love he really wanted, it was enough. The love of a friend; a colleague; someone you spend your everyday life with. She really was full of love – gave it to everyone, even in small doses. She had never loved him romantically, but when she asked him into her home, it was an act of love none the less. There was love behind all her actions, even those that brought death to demons. It was the love for humanity that spurred her on; her desire to not let anyone get hurt. It was her loving nature that kept him alive – kept her giving him infinite second chances.

Spike may not have been able to content himself with sleep that night, but he could content himself with knowing that Buffy was worth waiting for.


	3. Visits

Taking the sewer tunnels to the hospital in the afternoon, Spike hoped the gang had gotten Buffy picked up by the coroner already, and that she’d be there ahead of him.

Sunnydale General’s mortuary was particularly large and he found himself having to flirt with an intern in order to find out where to start. He’d never hated flirting before – it had never felt so cheap, before – but it got him what he needed. He found the room and, eventually, he found her chart.

‘Death by unknown causes,’ it said, and there was a little box checked beside the words ‘Possibly Supernatural’.

“Only in Sunnyhell,” Spike said to himself.

Taking a deep unnecessary breath, he pulled open the door to her section of the ventilated storage unit, slid out her tray, and looked down at her cold body.

“Oh, Buffy,” he sighed, his voice cracking a little.

He didn’t know what he’d hoped to achieve by seeing her, he just knew he had to.

“Buffy,” he said again, voice still soft yet strained. “Damn. You’re still beautiful, even now. That’s… probably not what you want to hear. Can you hear me?” momentarily, he waited, then shook his head at himself, sighing. “I’m sorry. I am genuinely so sorry I couldn’t save Dawn for you, so you wouldn’t have had to- wouldn’t have…”

Letting out a sob, he tilted his head back, refusing to let tears gather in his eyes again.

“My failure put you here,” he continued. “And I’ll be damned if I don’t make it up to you – literally, I expect. Buffy…” he looked away from her again before returning his eyes to her pale skin. He reached out to touch her hair, but stopped himself at the last moment. “I love you. Goodbye.”

With that, Spike pulled a crumpled flower from the pocket of his duster and laid it beside her before closing his eyes, pushing her tray back in the unit, and closing the door.

 

\---

 

Back at his crypt, Spike found Dawn waiting for him, again.

“Don’t yell,” she said, before he opened his mouth. “It’s still daylight. I’m not disobeying.”

“And I’m not yelling. Anyone know you’re here this time?”

“Yeah, Xander said I could come.”

Spike raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

“I wanted to tell you,” Dawn continued. “They’re, uh… burying her. Tomorrow. I know you can’t be there, because of the sun and all, but I thought you should know.”

Regarding her, Spike asked, “Why are you being nice to me, Dawnie?”

She looked at her feet before letting the quiet words out. “Because I’m scared you’ll go away, now that she’s gone. And I need you to know that you can’t do that.”

Spike swallowed. “Dawnie, I failed you, and big sis. This is my fault. If I’d have-”

“Firstly,” she interrupted, now fixing him with a firm stare. “Stop calling me that, that was her name for me, y’know? It’s still a little too raw. And secondly, hey, look at me! _Secondly_ , this is not your fault.”

“Not directly but-”

“Not directly, not indirectly, not in any way. Look, Spike, I know what it’s like to blame yourself. Don’t you think I’ve been feeling the same? But, deep down, we both know there’s nothing we could have done. I gotta go, now, but remember that. Take care, and stick around.”

Spike watched her walk out, wondering how she was holding together, but then he thought that he probably looked pretty much together on the outside, too. That was the problem with pain – you could try and share it, try to help each other through, but no one ever really knows how it’s hitting you.

“Nothing we could have done,” he repeated to himself. He mused on the phrase for a long time, playing over in his head what practical changes he could have made to alter the course of events.

Eventually, he fell asleep and saw the whole scene again in his head. The colors appeared more vibrant, and some parts were slowed down, but inch for inch it was happening exactly the same as it had. He had to change it. He had to try.

This time, as he watched himself climb the tower, he called out to Willow in his mind and told her to get a message to Dawn. He told her to telepathically let Dawn know that he was coming, and to not look at him when he got up to her. He told her not to shout his name, as she had done, so that he could sneak up Doc and have him be the one stabbed and pushed over the side. But it didn’t work. Even with Dawn pretending not to see him, the demon knew he was there. Doc still turned around and asked him why he was trying to save her. He still stuck his knife in him, and Spike still saw the look on Dawn’s face; the tears in her eyes. This time, when he hit the ground, Spike found himself surrounded by Buffy’s life force again. Her energy swam around him and warmed him up as he came back to consciousness.

Bolting upright in bed, he cursed himself; knowing that the next night he’d need to have a better plan, and that he couldn’t rest until he was sure that Dawn was right - that literally no matter what way things could have unfolded, there was nothing he could have done to stop her from going. Until he knew it was true, he couldn’t let himself be comforted by the Slayer’s essence.


	4. Torn

Several days of re-enacting Buffy’s final hours left Spike knowing that there would have been ways to save her. In some of his dreams he managed it, and some of them he didn’t quite make it, but in all of them she came to him and gave him the strength to carry on throughout his waking hours.

He thought knowing one way or the other would bring its own relief but it made no difference. Even on the nights he had figured out a way to stop Buffy from dying he still didn’t have complete peace.

Slowly, he came to realize that it was all more complicated than him saving her or not. He knew he needed help, and he knew where to find it…

 

Knocking on her front door, Spike had expected Dawn to answer but it was Willow looking back at him, concerned. Stupidly, he hadn’t prepared what to say and found himself at a loss for words when she asked him what he wanted. Finding it easier to ignore the question, he asked her one instead. “You staying here?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “For a little bit, I think, until there’s a better plan. We hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”

“Right,” he nodded, looking around him.

“Is there anything I can help you with? I know you must be taking it pretty hard.” He looked at her then and she continued speaking. “I mean, we’re _all_ taking it hard. But you don’t really have anyone, to share the pain? That why you’re here? You need a spell or something?”

“Nah,” he said, moving towards the door, “Doesn’t matter. I just… You studied Psych, right?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Can I ask- I mean, do you know, about dreams?”

“I think you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific,” said Willow, gesturing for him to come in and take a seat, “What’s going on?”

Spike sighed and got right to it. “I see her every night, Red, and some nights I save her. I’ve found ways to do everything differently but it doesn’t help. I need to find something – anything – a reason why she comes to me when I couldn’t protect her when it really counted.”

“What are you, nuts?” exclaimed Willow, suddenly, making him blink. “The girl you claim to love comes to you every time you close your eyes and you’re gonna just torture yourself with asking why? God, I wish I had that problem! You have her, Spike – you have some tiny part of her presence. Why are you not Mr. Happy? It’s more than the rest of us got!”

Again, he found himself lost for words.

“Look,” she carried on, her voice lower. “I know what it’s like to spend all day asking ‘What if?’ but you gotta snap out of it.”

“What do I do?”

“You said you found ways to save her, in the dreams?” she asked, and he nodded. “Well, then, you have control over what happens. It’s called lucid dreaming, and you can do what you like with it. If it was me I wouldn’t be trying to find ways to save Buffy, I’d be wanting to spend time with her.”

“You think it’s as simple as that? You think I’ll be able to just shift the scenery in my mind and take her on a bloody picnic instead?”

“Why not, Spike? It’s your head.”

He didn’t have an answer for that. Though he thought about it for a minute or two before standing up and walking out.

“You’re welcome!” Willow shouted after him as he shut the door.

He ran into Dawn in the front yard. “Where are you going?” she asked, but he didn’t stop to chat.

“Gotta plan a picnic,” was all he answered, over his shoulder, as he went.

“Huh,” said Dawn, going inside. “What’s up with him?”

Willow just shrugged and said, “I think he needs to work on some things.”

 

\---

 

Back at his crypt, Spike started pacing again; running over everything in his mind.

“Could it be?” he said to the empty room, “That you haven’t left me, because you’re not mad? You’re not angry that I didn’t save you? Do you- no. I mean, do you? Wanna actually be around me? Have I _completely_ lost it?”

As tempting as it was to let himself believe he was crazy, some deep part of him knew that when Buffy appeared to him, it wasn’t just his imagination. He knew that it really _was_ her – or part of her – and he knew that part wasn’t uncomfortable with him.

But Willow was right, the time for thinking too much and asking questions was done. He didn’t know how many nights he had left with her, and he wanted to make the most of each one.


	5. When Worlds Collide – Part 1

Spike opened his eyes in his dream world and, once again, found himself at the bottom of the tower. Concentrating, he faded out everything going on around him until there was just silence and shadows.

“Are you here?” he asked the darkness and, although there was no verbal response, he sensed her nearby. “Come to me.” He tried to keep his voice steady; tried not to sound _too_ desperate and pleading, but of course that happened anyway. “I need you.”

He watched as, slowly, a little light appeared and began to move in his direction. It got bigger and, with it, her presence felt stronger. He shifted on his feet a little, and it made the approaching light hesitate for a moment.

“No,” he said, “Keep coming. I’m here.”

The light started up again, continuing until it was just inches from him.

Carefully, Spike reached out and glided his hand over it, feeling her warmth against his skin.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, and the light changed color from glowing yellow to a rich orange in response. “Can I see-” he started to ask, but the light had already started to change again. It elongated and grew to the size of her small frame. As he looked on in awe, it transformed into a fuzzy ethereal carbon copy of Buffy. She was there in front of him, in all her glory.

Opening her eyes, she smiled at him.

Spike was transfixed. Speechless, he let tears of mixed emotions roll down his cheeks, uncaring about how it looked.

“Spike,” she whispered.

He reached out again only for his hand to go through her, and for her to return back to light. Shaking, he fell to his knees and the light surrounded him. He had a vision, then.

The memory of Buffy’s gentle kiss played in his mind and the next thing he knew, the sun was down and he was back in bed, alone.

Touching two fingers to his lips, he smiled.

 

\---

 

Spike ran inside the house shouting, “Willow, you’re a bloody genius!” Finding her in the kitchen, he hugged her close and continued to babble, “It worked. It really bloody worked.”

“Uh,” she said, looking around at the others, who were now staring at her. “Hello to you too, Spike.”

Curbing his enthusiasm for a moment, he also looked around before taking a breath and dropping his arms to his side. “Sorry,” he deadpanned, “Got a little carried away.”

“No kidding,” said Xander. “What’s up with that? Willow, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” said Spike, a little too forcefully. “Don’t matter.”

“Right,” said Anya, “Good. I didn’t care anyway. I want to hear more about Buffy.”

Spike tilted his head at her but didn’t say anything.

“Giles has a plan to use Buffy – the other, robotic, one – to keep on fighting like nothing’s happened,” Anya explained. “But clearly it’s a crazy plan. I was waiting for him to finish so I could tell him that, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. Giles, I think you’re crazy.”

Despite the explanation, Spike looked even more confused. Briefly looking back at Willow, he asked, “Should I go?”

“No,” said Giles. “We’re going to need you to be clear on the _crazy_ plan.” He glared at Anya before turning back to Spike. “Might as well fill you in while you’re here. Xander says you’ve agreed to help out; to continue to fight alongside us, as a way of keeping Dawn safe?”

“Yeah.” Spike nodded. “Fine. Include me in your little Scooby meetings, whatever. Need something killed, you just have to say the word. Don’t think there’s much need for the bot.”

“Actually,” said Giles, “As handy as robot Buffy’s fighting skills will be, we need her for something more important.”

“And what’s that?”

“Keeping up appearances. If word were to get out that the slayer was gone there’d be a lot more demons coming to town than I fear even you could fight.”

Spike didn’t like the plan at all, but he knew the watcher had a point. “Fine,” he said, eventually. “Just keep it away from me.”

“What’s the matter, Spike?” Xander mocked. “Feeling ashamed of your sick little sex toy?”

“Xander,” Giles admonished, “There’s really no need to be so… so, crude.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I just don’t like that he can be all happy and taking part, dishing out orders when I’m kinda being eaten up inside.”

For the second time in a couple of days, Spike squared up to the carpenter. “You think you’re the only one suffering?”

“Coulda fooled me,” Xander shot back. “You were practically jumping for joy when you got here and it makes me sick.”

“You don’t know anything, Harris. I don’t need to fool you, ‘cause that’s already what you are.”

“Hey, guys,” Willow interjected. “Cool it. Xander, he really was feeling bad, I just gave him some advice to deal with it and-”

“Nah,” Spike shook his head. “Save it, Red. He doesn’t need an explanation. He’s already made up his mind about me.”

Xander hung his head a little but kept his eyes on the vampire.

Spike headed for the door again. “Like I said, Rupes,” he continued, “Just let me know when you’ve got something I need to kill.”

 

Once in the front yard, Spike stopped for a minute to calm himself and light a cigarette. As he inhaled the first puff, he closed his eyes and tried to drown out the sound of the conversation still going on behind the door.

“You must have been a bloody saint to put up with that ponce,” he said. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll be good.”


	6. When Worlds Collide – Part 2

In addition to spending his waking hours coming up with ideas on how to play the lucid dreaming gig, Spike spent a lot of time figuring out the quickest and most fun ways of knocking himself out.

Alcohol took too long, and it gave him less sensation and control in his dreams. Hitting himself in the head worked but he found that the downside to that was that he had a lot of trouble waking himself up again if and when danger came kicking his door down.

Eventually, he found a spell book in the restricted section of the Magic Box that allowed him to go in and out of a deep trance any time he wanted – as long as he wore an enchanted pendant, which he also took from the Magic Box. He put the gem on a long chain, which rested above his heart, under his t-shirt.

With that in place, he went to Buffy’s grave with lilies in one hand and a copy of Hamlet in the other. Settling himself down, in a cross-legged position facing her tombstone, he read the words again:

_BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS_

_1981 – 2001_

_BELOVED SISTER_

_DEVOTED FRIEND_

_SHE SAVED THE WORLD_

_A LOT_

 

Reaching out to touch the engraving, he let a tear run down his cheek for a moment before pulling his hand back to roughly wipe it away. “Get a grip, William,” he whispered to himself as he gave his head a little shake. “Come on now, concentrate.”

He closed his eyes, took some long breaths and recited a modified version of the trance-inducing incantation he’d memorized from the spell book. The pendant glowed and her essence was brought forth, out of the dream world and into the space around him.

Tentatively, Spike glanced up and a huge smile spread across his face. “Hey presto,” he said. “It worked. Knew the research would be worth it.”

He looked into the light, captivated, before pulling a camera from his duster pocket to snap a photo. When nothing but darkness appeared on the review screen he nodded a little.

“As I thought, as far as anyone – or _anything_ – else is concerned, you’re invisible. I’m the only one that can see you.” The words took a few seconds to sink in before he added, “ _Can_ I see you?”

Once more the ball of light shifted and changed into the perfect image of Buffy’s earthly body. So pleased with himself, he almost clapped his hands and laughed out loud. In the end, he just kept his goofy smile and whispered, “Hello cutie.”

Spike told Buffy what he’d been up to, and how her friends were doing; Dawn’s recent grades, and Giles’ mixed results at training her robot counterpart. She sat there, looking into his eyes and smiling; nodding at appropriate places.

“It took me a week to plan this, y’know. Had to wait for a night when the scoobies weren’t patrolling – or, attempting to – then had to figure my way ‘round Latin as best I could, to allow me to see you while conscious. First few times I tinkered with the spell it went a bit… wrong. Had a crazy vision of a shrimp world, one time.” He laughed a little at the memory before continuing. “Knew I’d get it right in the end, though. Thought bringing you temporarily into my plain of existence, instead of the other way round, would be the only way I could read you this.” Gesturing to the book he asked, “Do you wanna hear some?”

“Yes,” she said.

 

Spike read for quite a while, completely losing track of time until a noise behind him broke his concentration. Quickly, he got to his feet and, turning, he caught hold of a fist that was flying through the air at him from another vamp.

“Do you mind?” said Spike, “Was kind of in the middle of something!”

“You’re an embarrassment,” said the enemy, “Fighting your own kind, then sitting in plain sight, acting like a crazy guy. Someone needs to get rid of you.”

Spike kicked the youngster saying, “Is that so. Bet you were hoping I was gonna be you,” before staking him, not allowing for a reply. He glanced back at the grave, but Buffy was gone. Cursing under his breath, he picked up the book from where he had dropped it in the dirt and made his way back to his crypt.

 

Once inside, he threw down Hamlet again then tossed his coat on top. Just as he pulled off his t-shirt to get undressed for bed, he heard a little shriek and turned to see eyes looking back at him, full of embarrassment and shock.

“Dawn! What are you doing here?”

“I… I just came to see you. Thought you’d be awake. I’m sorry,” she said, glancing down at her feet.

Suddenly self-conscious, Spike pulled his shirt on again and poured himself a drink.

“Bloody well should be,” he snapped, before muttering “People always interrupting.”

“I’m sorry,” Dawn repeated. “I’ll go.”

He downed the drink in one before looking at her again saying, “Sun’s up in a half hour or so. You can wait around up here ‘till then if you want. I’m going to bed.”

Walking past her, he went to the top of the ladder before stopping to glance back. “Don’t follow me,” he said, before descending to the lower level.

 

Spike awoke with a start a couple of hours later, hearing something moving around his upstairs. “Bloody hell, Dawn,” he said out loud, “Thought you were going home.”

Getting up, he was ready to berate her again when he stopped, suddenly, at the image of Buffy climbing down the ladder and walking towards him.

“Spike,” she said. “I’ve missed you. We don’t have sex anymore.”

His shock turned to anger as the truth dawned on him. The bot reached out to touch him and he shoved it back, “I told Giles to keep you away from me!”


	7. Crashing

Before Spike totally lost it with the bot, Giles and Xander came down his ladder too.

“Is it possible to get _any_ privacy in my unlife?” he exclaimed, before noticing the spell book in Giles’ hands. “Hey, what are you doing with that?”

Giles held it up and shook it at him. “I could ask you the same question.”

“Don’t shout at Spike, you’ll make him upset!” said the Buffybot, making everyone else groan.

“Look,” said Spike, taking a deep breath, “Xander, why don’t you get that thing out of here so I can have a nice little chat with the ex-watcher here? Get things straightened out.”

“Yeah right, Blondie. We’re not going anywhere until we know just what kinda evil you’re brewing up. How could you do it? I mean, I get how you could turn against us, it’s in your nature. But to lie to our faces, saying you wanted to help when really you’re stealing dark magic books to, what? Curse us in our sleep?!”

“Now hold on a bloody second–” Spike began to protest.

“No, you hold on!” Giles interrupted him, his eyes flashing. “Do you deny that you stole this book?”

“Well, no, but…”

Xander shook his head in disgust. “I knew it. I told you we shouldn’t have trusted him. Why does no one ever listen to me?”

“Because you don’t know what you’re talking about you half-wit,” said Spike.

With that, Xander clocked Spike on the jaw and the Vampire reacted, knocking the carpenter to the ground before clutching his head in agony as the chip fired. The Buffybot started making crying noises and suddenly all attention was drawn back to her.

Giles spoke up again, saying, “That’s enough, all of you! Xander, take her back to the Magic Box. I’ll follow after you in a minute.”

Reluctantly, Xander agreed, but not before giving Spike one more disgusted look.

When he and bot were gone, Spike sat down again and tried to reason with the watcher. “Look, Ripper,” he said. “I’m not exactly having the best day. For the love of all things unholy, can you give me a break and believe I wasn’t up to anything underhand?”

It was Giles’ turn to look disgusted. “Do you really think I give a shit about your day?” he snapped, the language surprising Spike. “I have no reason to give you a break, or the benefit of the doubt, especially when I spent all morning listening to Dawn cry her eyes out all because of you!”

“What? No. I… I didn’t do anything!” Spike protested a guilt flared within his belly and his mind scrambled to figure out just what he was being accused of. He was sure he’d done nothing to earn such venom, but the guilt leant weight to Giles’ words. After a couple of moments, he spoke again saying, “She was here, this mornin’. I told her to go home again. I was upset, probably spoke a bit harsher than intended. Can’t be more to it than that.”

Giles opened his mouth to reply, but Spike wasn’t done thinking out loud. “Wait a minute,” he said. “It was Dawn told you where your missing book was, wasn’t it? Brat must have been snooping. I swear, I could string her up.”

When Giles hit him in the exact same spot Xander had, Spike was too distracted to see it coming. It took him a minute to realize what had happened, even after the fact.

“Figure of speech!” he said in his defense. “You know I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“Haven’t you been listening, you pitiful, ridiculous creature?” Giles spat. “You’ve already hurt her!”

“But, I didn’t mean–”

“Save it. Just give me the pendant.” Giles could barely stand to look at him.

Spike glanced down at his chest where it hung and panic overcame him. “No,” he said. “You can’t. You can’t take it. You can’t take her away from me!”

Rage overwhelmed the watcher as he reached forward and snapped the chain from around Spike’s neck. “I don’t know what game you’re trying to play here, but I’m officially not interested. Stay the hell away from all of us!”

He stormed out and Spike sat back, eyes wide. “No,” he said to himself, over and over again.

 

Later, after the sun went down and Spike’s anger had time to fester, he did exactly as Giles had forbidden him and headed directly to the Magic Box. He was ready to let rip; ready to tear the place – and anyone getting in his way – apart until he got the pendant back. He didn’t care about potential migraines; he didn’t even care about the book, now that he knew the appropriate section off by heart.

As he got close to the store, he saw Dawn on her own, approaching it from the opposite direction. Just like that, his plan changed. He walked up behind her and gently grabbed her arm, guiding her into a nearby alleyway. She tried to scream but he put his hand over her mouth.

Finally realizing the identity of her assailant, Dawn shoved Spike away and kicked him in the ankle before launching a full verbal attack. “You stupid jerk!” she yelled, making him worry about the people inside hearing. “You scared the crap out of me. What are you even doing here? No one wants you, not after what you did. Just go away and don’t come back, okay? I hate you!”

All of Spike anger dissipated at the words. The Bit had a real talent for hammering her message home, just like her sister. “Dawn, you’ve got it all wrong,” he pleaded. “I didn’t take the stuff to do evil, I promise. I–”

“No,” she said, cutting him off. “I’m not talking about that. Don’t you even know what you’ve done?”

He stared blankly at her and she broke down crying in front of him. “You promised!” she said. “You promised to always be here for me and I’ve been going through everything myself these past few weeks. Spike, how could you leave me all alone?!”

“Oh, fuck,” said Spike to himself, realizing he really was deserving of everyone’s wrath.


	8. Sacrifice

It took Spike a long time to get Dawn to hear him out. She was still crying but not as hard when he said, “Dawnie, listen to me. I really sorry I was a git. Let me make it up to you. Anything you want, just name it and it’s yours.”

“Buffy,” she said, without pausing to think.

“What?”

“I want Buffy.”

“Oh, right. Well… I,” he stammered.

“Ugh! Just take me somewhere so I can clean up before going in there,” she said, gesturing towards the Magic Box. “I don’t wanna have puffy crying cheeks.”

Without a word, Spike looped her arm through his and walked her over the Espresso Pump where he grabbed her some napkins and pointed to the customer conveniences.

While she was gone, he ordered her a milkshake and thought about how best to put things right again.

 

Before long, Dawn came over to the table he’d grabbed for them and eyed the milkshake suspiciously.

“It’s not gonna bite you,” said Spike, his smile faltering as the joke fell flat.

Dawn looked away before hesitantly taking her seat and mumbling a word of thanks.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he continued, “But there might be a way for you to see Buffy. Or, her essence at least.”

Dawn’s eyes lit up. “What? Are you serious?”

Spike winced a little and ran his hand over his jaw, feeling the place he’d been hit earlier. So much for not getting her hopes up. “It’s complicated,” he said, “And it might not work, but it’s possible. I’d be willing to try, if that’s what you want.”

“But how?” asked Dawn.

“Well, I started seeing her from the day she left. In my dreams, I mean. Spoke to Red about it and she thought I might be able to control them, so I looked into it. And that spell book you saw – along with the pendant – that gave me real control. Could see her anytime I wanted. ‘Cept it wasn’t fully her. Her essence doesn’t talk as much, and you can’t touch her, but you can see what she looks like and you can tell she’s aware of what you’re saying.”

Instantly, he regretted his words. Dawn looked ready to burst into tears again. He thought maybe she’d be angry that he hadn’t told her before, but what she said was, “Spike, I’m so sorry!”

“Sorry?” he repeated. “I’m telling you that you could possibly see your sister again and you’re apologizing?”

Dawn nodded. “You’re not just telling me that,” she said. “Reading between the lines here, but you’re also saying that when I told on you I basically took her away from you, again. And that you’d be willing to risk the wrath of Giles by re-stealing the items on the off chance that anyone other than you can get the spell to work. You’re telling me that’s what you’ve been spending your time at, and I can’t stay mad at you for that. Because, no offense but, if I had the choice between you or Buffy, I’d pick her. I just think you shoulda told me this before. I can handle a little honesty, y’know.”

Spike flashed her a half-smile, half-grimace, wondering how his grandsire put up with so much guilt all the time. He’d had a day of it and it was killing him. “I really didn’t think too much about it,” he admitted, sighing. “Always been my problem. I hadn’t considered I was neglecting you at all.”

“Okay, said I could handle a _little_ honesty, not a heap. But it’s cool, I’m over it,” said Dawn, forcing a smile back at him before playfully poking him in the ribs and declaring him an idiot.

“Can’t disagree with you there,” he allowed. “So, what do you think?”

“About trying the spell?” she questioned, squirming in her seat before deciding, “I don’t wanna. It didn’t exactly work out well with mom, and I’m not sure I could handle having part of her without the whole thing. It hurts more, know what I mean?”

“Yeah, Platelet, know exactly what you mean. All… All I’ve ever had of her has been fragments,” he said, in such a quiet voice the girl struggled to hear him.

“Maybe that’s why then,” she mused. “Why only you experience her, because only you could handle that kind of suffering.”

“Suppose,” he said, “Makes sense in a twisted kind of way.”

Dawn shrugged. “Just a thought. Anyways, I should be heading back. They’ll be wondering where I am.”

Spike rose from his chair. “Maybe I should come with, try and patch things over?”

“Nah,” she said, “Not yet. Xander’s still pretty pissed. But I’ll lay the groundwork for you to apologize in a day or two. Tell them we’ve made peace and such. Then you can try convincing them you didn’t mean any harm properly – without a fist fight.”

“Appreciate your help, Niblet. And don’t worry, I’m not gonna do try and steal back the things. Think it’d be pretty counterproductive at this stage.”

“You can still reach her without?” she questioned.

“Yeah,” he said, “Far as I know. Will just take a bit more effort.”

Dawn stood up and took a big slurp of milkshake. “Better hop to it then, don’t wanna be keeping you apart.”

“Dawn,” said Spike, seriously. “I want you to know that you do matter to me, irrespective of who your sis is. Always had a soft spot for both you and y’r mum. You’re good people, and I’ve never considered you an inconvenience. It’s been a pleasure to spend time with you, and.... I’m gonna stop now.” Pausing to wipe roughly at his eyes, he finished, “Go on now, scoot!”

Following his orders, Dawn went on her way across the street, but took a second to look back at Spike and smile before disappearing round the corner.

“Right then,” he said to himself, “Damage control underway, time for my date with a lady.”

 

Back in his crypt again, Spike began quietly chanting to himself, trying to lull himself into sleep. Eventually, he found himself looking out into a meadow with the image of Buffy facing him.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly feeling very insecure. “I spoke to Dawn. Told her I was a prat. She’s– I think she’s gonna be okay. Got a good head on her shoulders, gonna grow up well. And I actually plan to ensure that happens. I–” he swallowed. “I can’t do that if I’m here with you. It’s one thing to make do having fragments of you when that’s all’s on offer, but while I’m meeting with you, like this,” he gestured between them, “I’m always gonna be craving more, and I’m just too weak to say no.”

After another pause to rally the last of his willpower, Spike said, “’m cutting myself off, Buffy. Cold turkey. You understand, right? I am doing the right thing?” He hadn’t meant it as a question, but it came out that way.

Buffy’s essence glowed in response, and he took that to mean he had her blessing.

“I’m gonna try and do this right,” he continued, “For Dawn. It’s what you’d have wanted.”

“Yes,” said Buffy, before reaching towards him. This time she felt solid as she touched his face. He began to cry, unable to help himself.

“Goodbye William,” were the last words he heard before floating out of the dreamscape and into a regular slumber, but after he was gone the vision of Buffy remained in the meadow, for a moment.

“Goodbye, for now,” she said, before fading away.


End file.
